Marilak and Aramil
by Lessiehanamoray
Summary: This is about three scenes that take place some time during Homeland and involve Marilak and Aramil. The first one is Aramil, Jarlaxle, and Zak, the second is Zak, Drizzt, and Aramil, and the third is Marilak watching Drizzt.


Author's Note: First of all, these scenes are not, necisarrily chronological order. It's been a while since I've read the books.

Disclaimer: No, Drizzt, Zak, Jarlaxle, and anyone else who shows up that is recognizable isn't mine. Aramil and Marilak ARE MINE though.

"He's My Son"

Zaknafien walked along the corridors of the Underdark trying to digest it all. So young Drizzt Do'Urden was his son! It all made sense, but still…how did you treat a child? It bothered Zaknafien that even though this was not his first kid, he didn't know.

He glanced up and smiled as he turned the corner to see a very familiar elf. Aramil was the only elf Zak knew where you could see where there was something such as gold flecks even in infravision. In fact, as he approached he saw those flecks get slightly warmer with excitement.

"I was hoping not to have to wait too long," he said in drow.

Zak merely looked at him and then jumped him in joy. Aramil fell on his back and pushed the energetic drow off of him.

"What is this all about?" he questioned as he stood and brushed himself off.

"He's my son," Zak said, glowing. "And he truly has a heart." He then seemed to look almost depressed as he sat down. "I just don't know how to act. How do you take care of a child?"

"Zak," Aramil said warmly as he sat by his friend, "I wouldn't be asking Aramil Galaedon."

Zaknafien looked at him and sighed, "I guess not. I just…"

"You just want him to not become a cold-blooded killer."

Zak looked once more at his friend and nodded.

Just then, Jarlaxle rounded the corner. "I take it that Drizzt Do'Urden is your son then."

Aramil and Zak glared at the flamboyant drow as they stood.

Jarlaxle just smiled, "I brought lunch." He then pulled a scrumptious meal out of his hat. Well, if you liked mushrooms and bats.

They all sat down and the drow began to eat.

"I'm willing to eat the mushrooms, but…" Aramil looked at the meat tentatively, "what is that?"

"Bat meat," Zaknafien said in between mouthfuls. Aramil wrinkled his nose.

"Try it, it's very delicious," Jarlaxle encouraged.

"Sorry, bat meat is against my religion."

The two drow just shrugged and continued eating.

A Drow With No Surname

Drizzt Do'Urden entered the training room and saw someone he didn't recognize. He had a morbid looking longsword and eyed the young drow critically.

"Who are you?" Drizzt asked.

"Alan," the stranger replied simply.

Drizzt looked at him. He had never heard a drow with no surname.

"I see you have meant Alan," Zaknafien's voice called from behind him. Drizzt nodded.

"He's here to teach you faerie tactics."

Drizzt looked at Zak in disbelief. This one did not seem like much of a warrior!

"You will need to be ready," Zak said simply. He then signaled for Alan to pull out his weapon and for Drizzt to pull out his two scimitars.

"He has only one weapon."

Alan didn't even say anything, he just charged. Drizzt was stunned, as the drow moved in. As Alan moved it occurred to young Drizzt Do'Urden that he might have been underestimating his opponent.

22

"You were rough," Zaknafien commented when the two had retired to his private quarters.

"I get ornery when there's no light," Alan replied, slipping off his ring.

Zaknafien shook his head as he lit a small candle for his guest's benefit.

"Any better?"

"A little," the elf replied.

"I'm still amazed that you managed to make the spider guardians believe that you belonged here."

"I'm good at making magical items believe what I want them to."

Zaknafien just sighed and sat down beside the rather eccentric elf. "Is this normal for your kind?"

"No, it's just normal for me."

Zaknafien had a good laugh at that. "Then, it must certainly not be normal!"

Giving a sigh, the elf pushed a white strand of hair out of his face. "Where is the raid?"

"The surface is all that is known ahead of time," Zak responded.

"Alan" looked at him. Then, his gold flecks glowed and he grinned.

"What is it?"

"I just realized that I will be visiting my love soon," he replied.

"What is love like?"

The elf thought for a moment before responding," Love is like a disease. It seems that when one person has it, others must catch it. In truth, I can't tell you much about it. The feeling is different for everyone, you just know."

Zak nodded, he could be content with that answer.

Driderphobia

Marilak Baenre had a nervous streak. It wasn't anything major, it was just Driderphobia. He hated driders to a level that most priestesses would be proud of. It was probably just a side-effect of having lived with a Matron Mother who seriously considered turning you into one, and turning you back just so she could do it again. Why then was he the one who had to watch Drizzt Do'Urden fight them?

He sighed, canning up all those fears, and watched as the young, extremely young by Marilak's standards, Do'Urden killed them. He had to admit that the boy had his fathers' talents. Unfortunately, he also had his father's heart which meant he would probably become a real pain in one particular drow assassin's butt. Why did Jarlaxle always have to protect those he hated? Why was it wrong for him to backstab Drizzt, Zaknafien, Aramil, or Tiriche?

Jarlaxle was teasing him, and it infuriated the assassin. Jarlaxle injured his pride, but, luckily for him, his overall health always went above his pride. There was also the basic fact that he didn't want any high-standing job. He sighed, he had known Jarlaxle almost all of his life, and they had never gotten along.

"They're like brothers," people would say. It was almost true, but they liked each other a bit more than that. Imagine how thick one strand of hair is.

If only they knew how close they were, Marilak thought. If people did know, it would give him an excuse to kill them. Jarlaxle was only a hundred years Marilak's elder, and while that was a big deal during the first portion of one's life, at over a thousand the difference wasn't even really noticeable.

He smiled as Drizzt left, then remembered that Aramil was quite probably coming for a visit and almost groaned. Luckily, the elf had this marvelous habit of being late, which meant that he wouldn't be there before Marilak left.

Silently, he left the cavern. He had a half-drow to kill.


End file.
